Old Habits Die Hard Part Six, some old habits never die Options

[haute ecole rider]

@SubRosa: Thanks for the kind words. Yes, I wanted to show the egos in the room. I had Destri's infamous war council with the Direnni and the incomparable Hoag Merkiller in mind as I wrote this. The more I write this character, the more I feel that IG Camillus is my HM. I'm glad you approve of the Countess's presence in the room. Yes, she only intended to listen, as any good ruler should, but she knew she needed to calm Burd down before he and Steffan came to blows. Steffan, in his own way, is just as fierce in his loyalty to the Blades and their duties to the Septims.

@Acadian: Ilend Vonius knows better than most the challenges Julian faces in the Deadlands. Burd and his men have learned to sneak from the get go, but Vonius has made mistakes and lost men as a result. He is the only other one who knows how crazy stupid it is to run in there waving your sword, but he also recognizes that there is no time to sneak. As for Leland, it's so easy making that arrogant ar$ehole the baddie on this council.

@Grits: I suspect you may be right - Jauffre is horrified at Martin wearing a holy relic, as well as at the idea of him leading from the front. Though he did say in an earlier chapter that previous Emperors have led from the front in the past. I can't help but see Carvain as being ruthlessly practical and effective as a ruler. Her only weakness seems to be her obsession with Akaviri artifacts. Whether we see that side of her or not remains to be seen. I'm glad that you pointed out Martin standing beside Julian at the end. I wanted to emphasize that he acknowledges her as his champion, as Carvain so aptly points out.

@Olen: I agree that this is going to be a tough one for Julian. So many of her habits - new and old - are going to war against each other in the upcoming segments. She is going to have to trust the Blades to keep Martin safe, trust the captains to work together on this one, and trust in her own strength, speed and physical conditioning to get her through the Deadlands in time.

@McBadgere: I think we will soon see what kind of fighter Leland really is. Though he has no Legion experience, I'm confident that he won't embarrass himself on the Plain of Caribou.

@ghastley: Yes, I think having people with prior experience of a Great Gate with its siege engine is critical. We will see how critical Julian knows their knowledge is in this next chapter.

The story so far: The bare outline of the battle plans have been laid out for the captains. Naturally Burd objected to putting Bruma at such significant risk, but Countess Carvain and Martin Septim manage to convince him that it's absolutely necessary. As Martin so aptly says in the game, no one's going to like it.

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Chapter 30.4 Military Intelligence

While Martin conferred briefly with Jauffre and Camillus, Baurus sidled up to where I stood beside the door, waiting my turn to leave with the guard leaders. His anxiety, palpable beneath that impassive exterior, arrested my departure. Beside him, Steffan’s own feelings were more evident in the grim set of his lips and the distracted way he responded to Sai’s more enthusiastic greeting.

“Julian,” Baurus put one hand on my shoulder, blocking my view of the Emperor and the Grandmaster.

“I know, sir, I’ll be careful in that Gate,” I began, but he shook his head.

“We’re concerned for you, of course,” Steffan murmured, tipping his head down toward Baurus and I so that only we heard his words. “But that’s not what we need to talk about.”

I glanced at him, then returned my gaze to Baurus. “Then what is it, sir?”

“You’ve got to convince Martin Septim not to lead this fight,” Baurus hissed between clenched teeth. My eyes widened at his words.

“He does intend to take the field?” I matched his tone. “But what combat experience does he have?” I shook my head.

“I don’t doubt his courage,” Baurus growled softly. “That’s not the issue. The issue is that there simply isn’t enough of the Dragonguard left to protect him.”

“What Dragonguard, sir?” I demanded. “There’s only you, Baurus!” I inhaled slowly. “And Martin Septim is the main target. All the Daedra on the field will be beelining for him.”

“And he’s wearing Tiber Septim’s armor,” Steffan’s tone subdued Sai’s buoyant tail. “So much for blending in with the vanguard.”

“Steffan and I,” Baurus flicked his gaze at the taller Imperial, “we’ve tried to talk him out of it. I know Grandmaster Jauffre will try to talk him out of it. But the only one Martin Septim really listens to is you, Julian. You were the only one to convince him to take time to eat and sleep. You were the only one to get him to stop pushing himself so hard when he first came to Cloud Ruler Temple. You’re the only one he really, truly trusts.”

I recalled that first night out of Weynon Priory, when we had started out on the Orange Road. How quickly Martin had been to jump to battle! How stubbornly he had refused to promise to let me do all the dirty work. How he had conceded only that he would not take unnecessary risks.

“There are some things I can’t talk him out of,” I said finally, meeting each man’s gaze in turn. “I will do as you ask, but I can’t promise that I will succeed. Best you prepare for protecting him as best as you can on the Plain of Caribou.”

Baurus sighed, dropping his hand from my shoulder. “You’re right, Julian. He is worse than his father.” His eyes flashed briefly. “Oh, I mean that in a good way. Emperor Uriel was a good man, but I think Martin’s better.” He scrubbed his palm over his close-cropped hair, a betrayal of the frustration I knew he felt. “But I think I’m going to be as white as you when this is all over!”

“Never mind that,” Steffan clapped Baurus on his back. “I’ll reassign Fortis and Pelagius to your Dragonguard. The rest of us will support you out there on the field.” He turned back to me. “But if you could convince Martin Septim, it would help Baurus keep his youthful appearance for a few years more.”

“I’ll talk to the Emperor in a bit, sir,” I nodded past Baurus’s broad shoulder toward that shimmering armor. “I’d like to talk to Vonius about the Great Gate before he gets too busy with his preparations.”

“Go, we’ll see you later, then,” Baurus stepped back. “Good luck with the Emperor.”

“And if I don’t get the chance before then,” Steffan added, “good luck with the Sigil Stone. May Akatosh and Talos go with you.”

Outside in the broad castle courtyard, Leland strode up to me. Though he was somewhat shorter than I, he somehow managed to look down his nose. “So you’re the Hero of Kvatch,” he sneered. “And of every other city in Cyrodiil, it seems.” His gaze raked up and down my frame. “We’ll see, won’t we?” Before I could answer, he turned and stalked away. Sai growled deep in his throat at Leland’s departing back.

“Shush, Sai,” I dropped my hand to his ruff. “He’s not worth getting your hackles up over.”

“You got that right,” Lerus’s voice reached me. I turned as the Bravil captain paused beside me, her icy gaze piercing daggers into Leland’s back. “I have no idea where Indarys dug him up - he’s certainly in no Legion records I’ve been able to find.”

“Mercenary?” I wondered, contrasting Leland’s slouch to the ramrod straight postures of the other guard captains I had met in my travels.

Lerus shrugged. “Something’s not right, there,” she admitted. “Indarys knows that only Legion officers can be guard captains, so why would he go against that rule?”

I shook my head. “That’s something for another time, Lerus.”

She drew herself up even straighter than before and clapped me on the shoulder. “I have to brief my guards, and you have your own preparations to make. If we don’t get the chance to talk again, may Akatosh go with you in that Gate!”

“And may Akatosh stand with you in front of it, ma’am!” I nodded as a battle grin came over her sharp features and she moved away. I wondered if my own face had taken on its own combat expression. I certainly felt myself falling into old mental habits I had developed after years of terror-inducing combat in the Legion.

I found Vonius and Inian briefing their small contingent. Reactions were initially shocked and dismayed, as each man had experienced the chaos and devastation of a Great Gate for themselves. But as they listened to the details of the mission, their expressions changed to hard determination. Jawlines hardened, lips compressed, and eyes grew cold. Before Vonius had finished speaking, they were already examining their weapons for defects and two began running whetstones over their blades.

Inian spotted Sai and I waiting on the edge of their gathering and nodded once to me. He turned to Vonius and murmured something. As the guardsmen dispersed to their battle preparations, Vonius walked up to me.

“This is it, Julian,” he murmured softly so the others won’t hear. “Time to cross the Bjoulsae.”

I nodded. No turning back. “Vonius, you were in that Great Gate for some time. Do you remember much of how it looked before those war gates closed?”

His eyes grew pained, but he nodded. “Yes, I do remember some.” His gaze sharpened on me.

“In all the other Gates I’ve been in, none of them were quite like that one,” I remarked. “None of them had that broad causeway straight to the Sigil Keep.”

“The road the siege engine came down on,” Vonius hazarded. “That’s because there was only one Great Gate. Until now.” His gaze grew unfocused. “Matius sent us in almost immediately after that monster came through the Gate. Those big gates inside were still open, and we could see the way clear to the biggest tower.”

“Tell me what you remember of the layout, Vonius.” I kept my tone neutral. If the terror and panic I felt in there is still so fresh in my heart and soul, how much more so for Vonius?

He looked around, then led me to a patch of relatively undisturbed snow in the shade of one of the tents. We knelt and he began sketching lines into the white stuff. After a moment lingering beside the campfire, Sai decided he wouldn’t get a mutton bone today and moved to sit between us.

“We came through the Gate here,” he indicated a short straight line near the edge of the snowy patch. “In front of us was a straight causeway leading at a gentle upward slope toward this huge tower.” Two parallel lines connected the Gate line to a large circle at the opposite side of the patch. “Smaller towers stood here, here,” he drew a total of six smaller circles, four forming the corners of a box straddling the causeway near the Gate, the other two on either side of the Sigil Keep. I nodded - so far it was consistent with what I had seen on my roundabout detour up the side of the island.

“I was the rearguard, and fighting to keep scamps and other nasties off my companions,” Vonius continued. “These war gates closed first,” he slashed a heavy line across the causeway between the second pair of towers, “then these,” a second line connected the first pair of circles. “I was stuck outside this pair while the others were trapped inside this box.”

He paused, his head bowed. I waited silently, desperately seeking a way to convey my sympathy for his grief. Sai expressed it better than I could when he sidled over to lean against him. The dog nuzzled his muzzle beneath Vonius’s mailed elbow until the man’s arm draped over his shoulders. Vonius dug his fingers into Sai’s luxuriant ruff for a few moments.

When Vonius spoke again, his voice shook a little before resuming its neutral tone. “Fire rained down in this area from above, killed most of them. Goneld was the only one still moving when the daedra moved in. I had to fight off more of the creatures, but I could see through the gates that they were dragging him off in the direction of the big tower.”

I set my left hand on his broad shoulder and squeezed hard. “I know it’s hard to remember all of that, Vonius,” I said softly. “But I appreciate it.”

“You have to know what you’re up against, Julian,” Vonius brushed a mailed wrist across his face before he met my gaze. “And you have to move fast. All this happened in less than five minutes, best as I can tell in that place.” He shook his head. “The terrain is very unstable, too. Some of the structures I saw were already collapsing, and more fell down before you came through.” He drew thin lines connecting the smaller towers that anchored the war gates. “There were footbridges high up here, they collapsed shortly after Goneld was taken away. I could hear rocks falling, and some of those towers started listing.”

“I noticed that here,” I tapped the rough map, “and in other Gates too. Seems that the whole of the Deadlands is constantly changing.”

“Mehrunes Dagon is the Lord of Destruction,” Vonius commented. “It would make sense that he would destroy even what he creates.” He regarded the makeshift diagram a moment longer. “I’m sorry, I can’t tell you much more than that.”

“You’ve told me a lot, Vonius,” I rose to my feet and brushed the snow from my knees. Sai jumped up and resumed his place beside my left side. “It’s just what I needed to know.”

“You’re going in there alone?” Vonius rose as well and stamped his feet. “No one to watch your back?”

“I don’t intend to stay in one place for long,” I answered. “I also don’t intend to stop and kill every daedra I see, but run like the wind for that Sigil Stone. It’s like you said, I have only a quarter bell to cover that much ground.”

“I don’t know how you’re going to do it,” Vonius shook his head. “But if anyone can, it’ll be you.”

I held his gaze a moment longer, then stuck my right hand out. “For Kvatch, Vonius. For Kvatch.”

His grip on my wrist was combat-hard. “For Kvatch,” he echoed.

[Grits]

It’s great to see the Martin issue tackled right away. Without him there’s no need for the Sigil Stone, so of course they’d want him to stay safe. But without the Stone, he can’t do his job. Also he has some pretty big plated boots to fill, and he doesn't want to look weak at the moment he steps up as the heir. I look forward to hearing what he has to say about it.

I was interested to see how the Kvatch folks remembered their Gate experience, and what that would mean for Julian’s run. It seems that even if they were inside the Great Gate at Kvatch instead of one of the regular ones, things might have changed by now. Or the Bruma Great Gate could open to a different part of the Deadlands. I like that they don’t have all of the answers, because they wouldn’t.

My favorite part here is seeing Baurus, Steffan, Julian, and of course Sai as a team of conspirators. It occurs to me that Sai is going to have an uncomfortable time in a few hours.

The tension is building beautifully! These episodes are a wonder, haute!

[Acadian]

“You’re right, Julian. He is worse than his father.” His eyes flashed briefly.’
This says much – and clearly with both consternation and affection on Baurus’ part. I agree with Grits that it was good to at least acknowledge the challenges to Martin’s safety. I expect Julian will try to talk with Martin, but I suspect she is right in predicting that her influence here will be limited.

Nice little sub-mystery going on regarding Lelend and why he holds a position he is so clearly not suited for.

The poignant review between Julian and Ilend regarding what they knew about great gates was both welcome and wise. It really helps tie the upcoming events at Bruma to the tragedy at Kvatch. A bit of a full circle feel.

You are doing a great job capturing the whole epic feel of this undertaking at Bruma, and I am on the edge of my chair with nervous anticipation!

[SubRosa]

Steffan and Baurus are understandably concerned with the thought of Martin taking the field. Given that he is the last Septim only gives them more reason to fear. There is no heir waiting to take his place if he comes back in a box.

But OTOH, there is no symbol greater for the legionaries and city guard to rally behind then the Emperor. Save perhaps Akatosh himself. In what will likely be the pivotal battle in the Oblivion Crisis, can Martin afford to sit it out in the relative safety of Castle Bruma or Cloud Ruler Temple? Even more than that, is it in his makeup? He is not just a man after all, but a dragon as well (as Skyrim shows, literally). Sitting on his bum is just not something one like him is capable of. He has already demonstrated this is in the past. It is just who and what he is. So the Blades are going to have their work cut out for them.

An interesting little interlude with Leland, the mystery Breton who was born without tact, courtesy, decency, or any other redeeming qualities. That fact that you are giving him these paragraphs suggests to me that we will be seeing more of him in the future.

“Time to cross the Bjoulsae.”
I loved your ES-ized version of crossing the Rubicon. I was half expecting Julian to say "The die is cast!" afterward.

Very smart of Julian to talk to the Kvatch survivors to get the skinny on the Great Gate. Hopefully what they tell her will give her an edge inside that thing. Very interesting observation on how the Deadlands are constantly disintegrating. Even playing the game I liked how the place looked destroyed. As Vonius pointed out, Dagon is the lord of destruction after all.

[McBadgere]

Verrah verrah cool... ...

From the Martin going into battle thing (which I always had the Gauntlets of the Crusader for, with the healing spell thing)...

To the memories of the Kvatch gate...Loved the idea that the deadlands were constantly changing btw...Someone's probably going to tell me that they did that anyways and I've just failed to notice it aren't they?...Aaamywho, that was a fantastic image right there...Nice one!!...

And the Leland thing...Yes, when I did the MQ with my Knight Commander went to thank Leland for his efforts after the battle and he was most put out by his rudeness...So "He" decided to go find him when the crisis was over... ...That was fun...

But he was definately a beast in battle, I'll give him that...

Another amazing chapter...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

[Athynae]

I cheered when you returned then promptly got way behind...RL...but I am back up with Julian, Sai and Blanco.

Wonderful writing as usual but the pieces from them meeting with Carvain to here is some truly great writing. You conveyed through words a tangible tension in preparation for the battle ahead, and I can almost feel an underlying excitement not for the fight but for the possibility that once this is done it will be over.

Each character brought their own to the table and you served it up like a feast.

I am so glad you are back with this story. Can't wait for more and hopefully I can keep up

[ghastley]

Of course, Martin's presence as a magnet on the battlefield will help Julian's entry into the great gate when it opens, so he's got the right strategy. One hopes that he has some decent defensive enhancement on that armor, and can do the "tank" job properly.

I'm looking forward to whatever you're setting Leland up for.

[Olen]

Much has already been said. Acadian has already noted how well the reflection back to Kvatch works to give a sense of continuity and completion. Talking with the survivors of the first gate to get the details of the last has a good symmetry. It also works well to take advantage of the fact that you readers know the basic plot outline and use that to make this seem all the more climactic.

Dealing with Martin taking the field is an interesting conundrum. All he is really doing is putting himself - who is an asset worth far more than a mere figurehead as he is to relight the fires and knows more about the Dawn than anyone else (at least who's telling) - at unnecessary risk for his own vanity. Very few people know what he looks like and there is no real reason not to dress someone else up in the armour and have the same moral boost without the risk. Equally he is the Emperor and I suspect what he says will go.

We see more of Steffan and Leland. I suspect to do with life beyond the main quest.

This post has been edited by Olen: May 25 2012, 09:45 PM

[haute ecole rider]

@ Grits: Somehow I just couldn't see Baurus (or Steffan, for that matter) sitting on the issue of Martin Septim taking the field. Baurus is even more dedicated to his bodyguard duties since Uriel's death, which he sees as failure on his part. Can we blame him for being determined not to fail again? And I also wanted to show how seriously Steffan takes his role as supporting officer for Baurus's Dragonguard. Yes, Sai will be quite uncomfortable in a short time.

@Acadian: You will see just how right you are about Julian's chances at dissuading Martin. I liked exploring Leland's position as Cheydinhal captain, especially since I had decided some time ago (thanks to a discussion SubRosa, you and I participated in some time ago back on the other forum) that all Guard Captains oughta be either current or former Legion. While I was pondering the Bruma Great Gate question, it occurred to me that it was the only other Oblivion Gate to have that big, paved causeway besides Kvatch. None of the others had that same straight path guarded by immense war gates. It hit me that the two Great Gates had much in common when you look at the basic layouts of the Deadlands behind them and compare them to the other smaller Gates in game. The fact that the Deadlands behind the Great Gates are intended solely for the purpose of sending that siege engine out is likely the reason why both of them share so much in common.

@Sage Rose: While I find "Rubicon" easier to pronounce than "Bjoulsae," I knew I had to use a TES river for that saying. Thanks for recognizing one of Caesar's more famous exploits and how it translates to Bruma's situation. I was tempted to have Julian say "The die is cast!" but I decided that would make the whole episode too derivative. As McB keeps pointing out though, Leland does have one redeeming trait - the man can fight. Yes, we'll be seeing more of him in the future.

@McB: Once again, thanks for those words! I never started KoN until after the MQ was finished, so I never had access to the Gauntlets of the Crusader. Might have been useful at a time like this! All of my PC's have the same reaction to Leland's greeting as yours - "What's your problem, arsehole?"

@Athynae: Thank you! I'm glad you found the time to catch up once again! I've tried to make each character shine in their own right, as at this point in the MQ, each of them has their own unique personality and I wanted to share that with my readers. Meeting Carvain in this story was a long-anticipated milestone, and I am so delighted to finally bring her Countess Highness into the plot. She has been waiting with Countess-y impatience these past two years to make her appearance. And I believe I've been remiss in commenting on your story about the Princess. It's been fun seeing how similar the two ladies are in their temperaments. I've been tempted to write Countess Carvain's own backstory of how she gained the throne of County Bruma . . .

@ghastley: I'm not sure about the enchantment on Tiber's armor, but the fact that it comes with four attendant guardians should bode well for Martin Septim. That and one other thing that will become evident in upcoming segments . . . Whatever I'm setting Leland up for will have to wait until after the Crisis is over. Julian has her priorities, and right now Leland's mystery origins rank pretty low on that list.

@Olen: So good to have you comment, as always. While I wasn't consciously aware of the symmetry of the two Great Gates and having the Kvatch contingent there until I was actually writing the piece, it just works out so well that I had to use it. And the events at Kvatch happened so long ago (three months, I believe, in OHDH time) that I thought it worthwhile to remind readers of the Deadlands behind the Kvatch Gate. I hope that you will find Martin Septim's reasons for taking the battlefield worth the risk. As for Steffan and Leland, you're right, it has to do with LBMQ.

The story so far: Julian has been asked by Baurus and Steffan to try and dissuade Martin Septim from taking the field in combat. Though she doubts her own success, Julian agrees to do so. After a brief, nasty encounter with our favorite polite Breton, Julian catches up with Vonius and rehashes their memories of the Deadlands beyond the Kvatch Great Gate. Now Julian is going to try and keep her promise to her Blades friends.

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Chapter 30.5 One Last Confession

“Forgive me for interrupting, Sire,” I found Martin seated in the front pew before the altar of Talos within the Chapel following the second briefing. Baurus, in his customary position just behind Martin’s shoulder, flickered his gaze at me. I gave him the tiniest of nods.

Martin looked around at me. “What is it, Julian?”

“I’d like to speak to you privately, Sire,” I stepped back and gestured toward one of the small chambers set along the western wall of the Chapel, beneath the tall stained glass windows.

“A confession, Julian?” Martin’s brows rose at me. “But I am a priest of Akatosh, not Talos.”

It’s not quite a confession, but that approach can work. “The confession is to you, Sire, not to Talos.”

Martin rose to his feet, Tiber Septim’s cuirass clanking softly against the Blades greaves Martin had found somewhere. He nodded for me to choose one of the compartments. Baurus followed us, but waited outside the curtained doorway as we entered. At my signal, Sai parked his haunches next to Baurus’s left boot and turned his attention outward.

The room was just large enough for two chairs set facing each other. There were no other furnishings in the room. A small round window set high in the wall let light into the cell.

I waited for Martin to settle into his seat before taking mine. He met my gaze, and I was reminded of our conversation atop Cloud Ruler Temple’s gate, when I told him of the vision sent by Akatosh.

“May Akatosh and Talos forgive me for what I am about to say to you, Sire,” I began softly. “I think it will be best if you returned to Cloud Ruler Temple and let us fighting soldiers defend Bruma. If you were to fall in battle here -” The set look in Martin’s face stopped me from going further.

Silence rested heavily between us as we stared at each other, then Martin lowered his gaze to his hands resting on armored thighs. “It’s been over three months since my father died and Kvatch fell.” The words dropped slowly between us. “In all that time, you, Jauffre, and countless soldiers bore all the risk of holding back Oblivion while I hid in Cloud Ruler Temple.”

“You weren’t hiding, Sire,” my protest died as Martin lifted his right hand imperiously. For a moment there I saw Uriel’s aged visage in his face, the light of fatality I had seen in the father’s eyes. “You were studying how to end this Crisis!” I managed to finish.

The ghost of Uriel dissipated into the late afternoon light as Martin smiled. “And now the time for studying is over. It is now time for me to step up and claim my role as Emperor. If I am to be my father’s successor, I must live up to his legacy.” He tapped the ornate chestplate lightly with his fingertips. “You brought me more than the Blood of a Divine from Sancre Tor, Julian. You brought me the symbol of Tiber Septim’s reign. He led from the front. The blood and scars on this cuirass bear testimony to his leadership.”

“You are the last of his line, Sire,” I tried again. “Combat is not a matter of repelling a few bandits or taking out a couple of Mythic Dawn agents. It is a matter of life and death, and death can take you completely by surprise.”

“You forget I was at the fall of Kvatch, Julian,” Martin reminded me gently. “I saw Oblivion and the destruction of Mehrunes Dagon up close and personal. And like the few men here who still carry the Kvatch Wolf, I am determined to see to it that no one else ever goes through what we went through.”

Now he leaned forward and braced my left shoulder with his right hand. “Remember, Julian, when we spoke of soldiers and orders in that chapel in Skingrad?”

Searching my memory took a moment, but I nodded.

“You said that soldiers must trust those giving the orders are working toward a higher goal. It’s the only way most can justify the killing that is often necessary in war.” Martin’s tone remained reassuring, but now I saw the hard light in his eyes that I saw so often in officers’s gazes when they made the hard decisions. “How better to gain the trust of the fighting men and women than to lead them into battle, to show them the sort of leader I can be? If I’m not willing to die for Tamriel, how can I ask them to risk their lives for Cyrodiil and for Bruma?”

He’s right. I followed the men I did for just that reason, when I was in the Legion. I slumped forward and shook Martin’s hand from my shoulder. “But if you die in combat, who is left to carry on?”

“Akatosh kept us alive in his Chapel for three nights while daedra swarmed us,” Martin replied. “He kept us alive when we were attacked by bandits, and by Mythic Dawn agents. He not only kept you alive, but claimed you as his. Believe me, you and I, we won’t die until our work for Him is done.”

“All right, Sire,” I couldn’t see a way to counter his argument, or his faith. My right hand rubbed the outline of the Red Dragon through the mail covering my left forearm. How can I say Akatosh hasn’t shielded me in ways the Kvatch Wolf couldn’t?

“Julian,” Martin sighed. “I don’t want your obedience. I will get plenty of that from courtiers later. What I want from you is the friendship we had when we traveled here, the faith you have kept in me, my father, and in Tiber Septim as a Blade sister, and the same trust you gave your Legion officers.” He shook his head, then tapped the enameled breastplate once again. “I have a lot to live up to. If you freely give me your friendship, faith and trust, then I know I am meeting Tiber Septim’s standards.”

“I never knew Tiber Septim except through stories,” I spoke slowly, sifting through my whirling thoughts for a thread that made sense. “But in a way, I met those who followed him to Death’s gate and back. And the way they felt about their Emperor, that’s the way I feel about you, Sire.”

There was the slightest flinch in Martin’s face, then he smiled. “Thank you, Julian. That is all I need from you. Now I feel like I can take down Mehrunes Dagon himself!”

I felt my eyes widen. “Talos forbid -” I shook my head. “Be careful what you wish for, Sire!”

A rumbling sensation vibrated through our soles and the seats of our chairs. “Sire?” Baurus’s voice reached us through the heavy velvet curtain.

We were on our feet and outside, hands on hilts. But we saw, if not Mehrunes Dagon himself, someone almost as formidable. Camillus stood beside the altar, dwarfing Burd and Steffan’s lean forms as the other leaders gathered around him.

“How much longer must we wait?” Though Camillus’s grumblings were quiet, bits of cobwebs drifted through the streaks of color that connected the stained glass windows on the western side of the Chapel to the stone floor around the altar.

Martin and I paused halfway to the altar as Burd glanced up into the shadows overhead, brushing away a bit of fluff that had drifted onto his forehead. “We closed the last Gate early yesterday morning, just before you arrived, sir,” he said. “So given the rate they are opening these days, we can expect the next one tomorrow sometime.”

“But at the rate these Gates opening is escalating,” Lerus observed. “It could come sooner than tomorrow. The thing is, what if it opens in the wrong place?”

“We close it,” Martin strode forward to join the group. “Just as we have been doing, all along. The only Gates we do not challenge are those that open on the Plain of Caribou.”

“Aye, where we can gain the best use of the cavalry,” Camillus was nodding. “My century is ready, as are the mages. The horses are rested and ready to go.”

Leland shot a skeptical glance at the big Nord. “That fast? But you only arrived late this morning!”

Camillus regarded him silently for several breaths. I caught the significant glance Lerus sent my direction. “These are Legion horses,” Camillus’s growl brought down more grey softness from above. “They are specially bred to march all day and recover with little food and time. Trust me, they are ready!”

I knew what Lerus was thinking. If Leland was really Legion, he would not have needed that explanation! After this is over, Lerus and I will have to look further into this person!

The tall entry doors banged open as a Chorrol guardsman ran toward us. “Sire! Sirs! A Gate has opened!”

“Where?” Ashcroft snagged the man by his surcoat.

“On the Plain of Caribou!”

“Well, it’s ABOUT TIME!” Camillus’s voice no longer held restraint. Now a veritable grey snow fell onto our heads from above as we turned toward Martin. I saw no hesitation in his face as he met Camillus’s gaze.

“You know what to do, Inspector General,” he said quietly. “See to it.” A glance at each of the Guard Captains. “As do each of you. I will see everyone on the Plain of Caribou.”

[SubRosa]

Julian's talk with Martin went just as I expected. Except that now I can see he has grown into the role of Emperor. As Julian saw, he is Uriel's son. He has his old man's steel. When we first met him he was clearly lost and uncertain, now he has the confidence of a dragonborn.

Believe me, you and I, we won’t die until our work for Him is done.
Such sadly prophetic words!

Now I feel like I can take down Mehrunes Dagon himself!
My money is on the dragon!

Some thoughtful strategy on Martin's part, to close every gate except those that open on the Caribou Plain.

And I see another hint that Leland is not all he is cracked up to be.

Now we are getting down to it. I am looking forward to seeing the Battle of Bruma through the eyes of Julian. If Pappy Vitellus were there, he would assure everyone that Julian will definitely not drop the ball!

This post has been edited by SubRosa: May 26 2012, 07:42 PM

[Acadian]

More epic goodness!

You expertly delivered the latter stages of Martin’s transformation from uncertain priest to emperor here. It was gratifying to see that Julian understood, and freely offered her loyalty – I’m sure that means a great deal to Martin and that he will need it. Certainly, this was a magic moment between emperor and his champion.

’I knew what Lerus was thinking. If Leland was really Legion, he would not have needed that explanation! After this is over, Lerus and I will have to look further into this person!’
Given the overpowering presence of Camillus, this would have been easy to miss. Clever of you to have Julian so naturally bring it to our attention.

[Olen]

Very good part with Martin, it made clear just how much sitting in CRT while others were in danger rankled him. His over working, which we were reminded of in the last part was another symptom. Here we see him going from uncertain and worried about what others think to deciding to make them think of him how he wants through his actions. Certainly strong leader material, if still a bit of a mad risk.

Camillus is well portrayed here, I like his character and hope we see more of him.

“Well, it’s ABOUT TIME!” - I enjoyed this line. I think he dislikes the waiting, and while its the fighting he's worried about he'd rather be doing it. Definitely a man of action.

[Grits]

“Akatosh kept us alive in his Chapel for three nights while daedra swarmed us,” Martin replied. “He kept us alive when we were attacked by bandits, and by Mythic Dawn agents. He not only kept you alive, but claimed you as his. Believe me, you and I, we won’t die until our work for Him is done.”

Well, there’s no way to argue with that. Martin’s faith is wonderful to see here. It certainly explains the risk he is willing to take.

“You know what to do, Inspector General,” he said quietly. “See to it.” A glance at each of the Guard Captains. “As do each of you. I will see everyone on the Plain of Caribou.”

Here we go!!

[Lady Saga]

Hey, haute, I'm Renee. nice to meet you.

As is my habit, I started this one from Day 1 (sewers) because I wanna read the entire thing. I wish I had started posting at Chorrol way back when SubRosa suggested the place to me a couple years ago. That way I'd be caught up with all these longer stories.

but no matter. Just wanted to let you know I'm on this one!

C1.2

This post has been edited by Lady Saga: May 28 2012, 08:04 PM

[ghastley]

Or as his father would have said in another universe "Make it so, number one" Your Martin's "sounding" more like Uriel all the time, which is not a bad thing at this stage.

Let's all go see how Leland fights!

[McBadgere]

“I never knew Tiber Septim except through stories,” I spoke slowly, sifting through my whirling thoughts for a thread that made sense. “But in a way, I met those who followed him to Death’s gate and back. And the way they felt about their Emperor, that’s the way I feel about you, Sire.”

Was that the bit in Sancre Tor where you get the armour?... ...Must find some time from somewhere... ...

Fantastic writing...Amazing stuff...

Loving this story...Loving the Martin-ness of it all...Can't imagine why I felt him creepy... ...Aaamywho...Definately would follow him into battle...Does remind me so of the Picard... ...

Brilliantly done...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

[haute ecole rider]

@SubRosa: I really loved writing this interchange between Julian and Martin. As the writer, I knew what was going on in Martin's mind as he spoke with her, but Julian is as yet oblivious to anything but what she sees and perceives. She is still struggling with what being the Son's Companion really means. And yes, it was a great opportunity to show how Martin grew and developed during his time in the CRT. And let me assure you, though Pappy isn't there in name, he is definitely there in spirit!

@Acadian: I'm delighted that you caught the moment where Julian assures Martin of her trust and faith in him as Uriel's legitimate successor. Julian has followed enough "leaders" to know a good one when she sees one, which is probably why she didn't persist as she could have to keep Martin off the field. Leland is one of the more fascinating NPC's in the game, and I can not resist the opportunity to show the man off as something more complex than what Beth gives us.

@Olen: In the two months it took Julian to gather all the artifacts for Martin Septim, she has barely had a chance to really have a conversation with him. Like many of the readers here, she is beginning to realize the dragon that is wakening here. While she never doubted the Blades' conviction that this is the Dragonborn, she is now starting to understand just what Dragonborn really means. Like I said with Leland, I really enjoyed writing Camillus. He is not a Beth NPC, just someone I imagined being worthy of Julian's regard as a leader. I really wanted to convey that though he is now Inspector General, with all the administrative duties that come with it, he remains a combat line commander at heart. Thanks to your comment, it seems that I have captured that effectively.

Grits: Part of the reason for this story is to show how faith, not organized religion, is what drives people to take the risks they do. Julian is learning for herself just how powerful that can be. Martin's faith in Akatosh transcends the teachings of the Chapel, as does Julian's own soldierly faith in the Powers that Be stands outside any of the organized religions of Cyrodiil. It is true, there are no atheists in foxholes.

@Lady Saga: Welcome to the endurance race that OHDH has turned into! I'm impressed that you managed to read all 300,000 plus words that make up Julian's story so far. I hope you haven't found it too boring to slog through.

@ghastley: All those days and nights spent studying is beginning to pay off for Martin. Believe me, daedric magic and how to close the Jaws of Oblivion has not been the only material he has been reading. I imagine him studying the Tamrielic version of The Art of War, On War, and Warfighting. While I have yet to get my hands on a translation of On War,, I have the other two in my collection and have read them more than once. I can only imagine Martin finding them as informative as I have. And yes, let's see how Leland fights!

@McBadgere: Yes, that quote you pointed out refers to the Fab Four of Sancre Tor. They have made quite the impression on Julian in more ways than one. Many thanks to Destri for making these ghosts real flesh and blood to begin with.

The story so far: Julian tried to get Martin to stay off the field of combat, as Baurus and Captain Steffan have asked her to, but was unsuccessful. We learn just how "Emperor-ly" Martin has become while she was gallivanting around Cyrodiil drumming up reinforcements and closing Oblivion Gates. The preparations for the big battle are nearly complete, and it's now a matter of waiting for a Gate to open in the right place . . .


**************************
Chapter 30.6 Jitters and Butterflies

The shadows of the Bruma city walls lay draped over the land nearly to the Plain of Caribou. Not really a plain, the area was more a shallow bowl that served to collect snow more than anything else. Gigantic boulders lay scattered around its rim, as if tossed there by giants. Near the eastern arc, where Dragonclaw Road branched off of the Silver Road to wind northward into the Jeralls, an Oblivion Gate screeched and howled into the gathering twilight. Snow had already melted away from its base, and we could see figures milling about, trampling more of the white stuff. Steam wafted and swirled around the lone Gate.

Above the Gate hovered the red and black thunderclouds typical of Oblivion storms. The fading sunlight on the snow was replaced by the hellish red glow I remembered too well. To fight the growing dread in my chest, I turned my gaze away and scanned the surrounding terrain.

The Legio Six cavalry lined up along the Silver Road along the southeastern arc of the bowl. Before the horses knelt a row of archers. I was pleased to see them, for Legio Six’s mounted archers were among some of the best offensive weapons in the Legion. Able to shoot arrows and darts accurately from the backs of galloping horses, the Mo Gu riders could wreak devastation at speed and soften the enemy before the regular cavalry followed. I could see pairs of mages interspersed among the first row of horses at regular intervals.

The guardsmen moved toward the southwestern lip of the bowl in small groups. The Blades remained behind and gathered around Emperor Martin, filling in as his Dragonguards. Baurus kept his customary position at Martin’s right shoulder. Fortis stood at the Emperor’s left, the hilt of his dai-katana rising above his helmed head. Pelagius stood before Martin, his stance relaxed and alert.

Nonius appeared from the direction of the Wildeye Stables, leading Red and Jasmine. Blanco followed after them, carefully keeping Jasmine between himself and Red’s heels. All three horses were already tacked, but I could see that Red and Jasmine were very nervous. They kept twisting their heads in the direction of the Gate, and I could see the whites glimmering around their dark orbs. Their coats gleamed with dark sweat and white lather.

Nonius stopped before Jauffre and Martin and offered the reins to them. Red tossed his head violently and backed away, nearly pulling Jauffre with him. After rubbing his hand over the chestnut’s neck, Jauffre shook his head. “I’m not riding him tonight, Nonius. He’s too frightened. Keep him safe in your barn.”

Jasmine expressed her opinion more emphatically. She reared and tore her rein from Martin’s hand. Executing a beautiful spin on her hocks, she bolted back to the open gate of the corral, nearly clipping Blanco as she sped past the white stallion.

“I think the same can be said for Jasmine,” Martin’s tone held rue. “It’s obvious they are not trained for war.”

“If we didn’t need every damn horse down there, Sire,” Camillus growled as he mounted his phlegmatic bay, “I’d loan you one of ours!”

“Thanks for the offer,” Martin smiled up at him. “But I think I’ll walk down.” He glanced at me. “Go ahead, Julian.” For Blanco remained nearby, watching us. I approached him and ran my hand down his neck. He blew softly at me, then turned his dark gaze on Martin.

“I hate to ride him when you’re walking, Sire,” I said. “Though Blanco seems ready to take on the daedra by himself!” As if agreeing with me, the white stallion tossed his head and snorted disdainfully. I tried to point Blanco toward Nonius’s departing figure, but the stallion ignored my signal.

With a chuckle, Martin started toward the bowl. His progress was blocked by Blanco, who trotted forward and swiped his head against Tiber's cuirass. Then the stallion sidled so that the saddle was before Martin. I shook my head.

I’m losing my companions? Sai to Steffan and now Blanco to Martin? But the stallion glanced back at me over his shoulder as if to reassure me of his loyalty. Finally I stepped up and took hold of the opposite stirrup. “It looks like Blanco will not let you go to battle by yourself, Sire.”

Martin stared at me. “You would lend me your Witchhorse, Julian?”

“I may have dropped nearly all of my saved pension on that beast, Sire,” I managed to keep my tone casual, “but he chose me, not the other way around. Who am I to argue with him?”

Still Martin hesitated. “Do you trust me with him?” A memory of Prior Maborel’s kindness struck me like a hammer, raising a walnut in my throat. I swallowed.

“I’ll tell you what a certain prior told me when he gave me his beloved paint, Sire,” I glanced at Jauffre as I said it, and knew he recalled the same memory. “It’s not a matter of trusting you with Blanco, it’s more a matter of trusting him with you.” I shook my head. “Like you said, nothing happens without Akatosh’s guidance. How do we know he is not working through this horse this very moment?”

For a moment Martin’s gaze glimmered in the twilight. Then he stroked Blanco’s neck in appreciation. “Thank you, Julian. And thank you, Blanco.” As I held the opposite stirrup steady, he swung easily into the saddle. Blanco swung his head and blew into my neck, causing me to cringe from the warm tickle.

“You behave yourself, horse,” I admonished him. “That’s the Emperor of Cyrodiil you’re carrying.”

Blanco tossed his head, then turned and trotted off on a loose rein, adopting a high step that cleared much of the stones. His mountain-born heritage showed in the way he placed his feet unerringly over the rough ground.

Camillus nudged his rawboned bay beside me. “The more I see of yon young man,” he remarked in a soft rumble, “the more I understand why you turned down Phillida. That’s the right decision you made, Julian.” Then the horse moved away in a ground-eating long stride.

Jauffre clapped his hand on my shoulder. “Looks like you and I are marching, Julian! It is as it should be - it’s us boot-pounders that win and hold the ground!”

I smiled at his attempt at humor, but already the pre-combat butterflies were settling in. I hated pitched combat, especially as pilus. Too many men to keep track of, too many tasks to accomplish at the same time, too many unknowns, too many ways the best-laid plans could go wrong.

I shook myself and fell in behind Jauffre and the other Blades as they accompanied Martin and Blanco down the rough slope toward the Plain of Caribou. Sai trotted alongside me, his demeanor subdued in the face of combat. Lightly armored and lightly armed, I wore just Matius’s mail and a pair of leather greaves tucked into leather boots. I also carried only Akatosh’s Touch. There would be no sharpshooting from me tonight.

While the Blades and Martin moved to the front of the line, Sai and I walked behind them. As I passed each contingent, guardsmen and women nodded their greetings to me. Cheydinhal looked alert, in spite of the slouched postures and sloppy dress that seemed to mirror their leader’s. Anvil stood ready, their faces grim. Skingrad had Dion’s discipline and honesty. Chorrol closely resembled the formation of my cohort in Legio Six, thanks to Ashcroft’s guidance. Bravil’s best, ranged behind Lerus, showed no signs of wavering.

Inian reached down and ruffled Sai’s fur when we reached the Kvatch contingent. Vonius smiled at me, though his eyes remained pensive. “Get that Sigil Stone, Julian. Don’t let anyone stop you.”

I hesitated beside Apsice and Cordelia. Apsice had the set look of the experienced fighter, but Cordelia seemed pale and shaky. I clapped my hand on her shoulder and leaned forward to her ear. “Let Apsice lead this, Cordelia. Tell your guard he will be relaying your orders. Then get out of his way.” I felt her breathing deepen, and she nodded. I met Apsice’s steady gaze for a moment. “See you both on the other side.”

I moved into the narrow space between the right flank of the Bruma contingent and the left flank of the Legio Six cavalry. Two battlemages stood on my right, their hands already flickering with magic. They nodded to me, but did not speak. I realized that even battlemages suffered the same pre-battle jitters that I did.

To my left, Burd clapped my shoulder. This time I had no difficulty keeping my balance. “This is it, Julian,” his voice drifted quietly with his breath. “We will not forget what you taught us. What ever happens tonight, we are proud to have fought Daedra with you.”

“I am proud to have closed a Gate with you, Burd,” I answered softly. With a final squeeze of my shoulder, the tall Nord turned his face forward again.

I closed my eyes and silently recalled the two spells I intended to use: ki’ire and ta’vias pa’toluku. I needed the extra speed and strength the Redguard adrenaline power would give me, and the Aetherius Stone blessing would bolster my magicka against anything I might encounter within the Great Gate. The shock on touch and drain health spells would be useful to extricate myself from any close encounters there.

But until the Great Gate opened, I would have to rely on my old Legion skills and the Sunbird Dance. I looked down into the bowl before us. The shapes of clannfear and scamps were the only daedra I recognized. The others will come through when we move out.

Ahead, Martin and Blanco stood like a statue, facing the line of guardsmen. The Blades stood ranged behind him, their faces turned toward the Oblivion Gate. After a few more breaths, Blanco turned and began prancing along the line slowly, the powdery snow drifting around his hooves.

Martin said nothing as Blanco danced before the cavalry, then turned around and retraced his steps along the curved front. When Martin had reviewed everyone, he stopped before the Kvatch contingent and regarded his fellow townspeople for several long breaths.

I looked down at Sai. He can’t go into the Gate with me. I can’t worry about him. I tapped his head to get his attention, then pointed at Blanco. Stay with the white horse. Guard him and his rider until I come back.

Sai didn’t hesitate but sprang forward to stand beside Blanco’s left knee. I had no doubt now that he would stay there until I called him back to me. It was a new thing Steffan and I had taught him. The dog had learned surprisingly fast. Maybe it’s because he adores Blanco. They’re tight friends since that bandit camp.

“Soldiers of Cyrodiil!” Martin’s voice took on the tone of command, the same tone I had heard in Uriel’s voice when he ordered Glenroy to back off of me on that dreadful night. “We stand here, not just to defend Bruma, but to defend all of Cyrodiil!” Blanco began moving slowly along the line again, and I knew Martin wanted to address each and every one of us. “Tonight we decide the fate of our countrymen! Tonight we fight for our homes, our families, our livelihoods. Above all, tonight we fight for our freedom from the Daedra!”

Now Blanco marched in front of Legio Six. “I am counting on you,” he met each rider’s eye, “to show the rest of us the caliber of Julian of Anvil’s former Legion! Are you worthy to call yourselves Legio Six?”

“Aye, Sire!” the riders shouted in unison. I blinked back sudden emotion.

“Then tonight is your chance to show us!” Martin turned Blanco back. “Do not let us down!”

“No, Sire!”

Now Blanco stalked before the guardsmen. “Bruma, Leyawiin, Bravil, Chorrol, Skingrad, Anvil and Cheydinhal, you have your own example to follow.” Martin drew his sword and pointed it at the sixteen men wearing the Kvatch Wolf on their breasts. “They lost more than the rest of us, yet they are here to ensure it does not happen to your cities.” His face turned in my direction, and I felt his gaze on me. “These men are the real heroes on the line tonight. Let’s add more heroes to their ranks tonight!”

“Aye, Sire!” the guardsmen shouted, some clanging weapons against shields.

“Mehrunes Dagon calls himself the Lord of Destruction,” Martin’s voice rang out once more. “But Akatosh is the Father of Time, and it is He whom I serve! It is Cyrodiil whom I serve! As Uriel Septim’s last son, I shall stand fast against this,” he stabbed that bright shining blade in the direction of the Oblivion Gate. “Who shall stand with me? Who shall hold fast right here, tonight?”

The response shattered my hearing. Around me men and women shouted the names of their respective cities as well as Legio Six and Dragonborn. My mind blanked on what to say for myself, but my mouth did not. “Akatosh!” I shouted. “Talos!”

“Let’s take the fight to these scum!” Martin lifted his greatsword over the calls. Blanco swirled on his hocks and leaped between Baurus and the Grandmaster. I lost sight of him and Martin as the Blades and guardsmen swirled down after him into the light cast by the Oblivion Gate.

Akatosh, be with Martin tonight. I prayed silently, then my feet followed, more from old habit than from any conscious thought.

[Olen]

Woo update and pre battle speech. You caught the nervousness on all parts well and along with it some of the interactions between different units. That she's surprised the battlemages are worried shows very effectively how even she regards them as separate and a bit different. It makes sense but I hadn't really considered it.

Martin shows how he's becoming the Emperor too with his rousing speech. I imagine he is similarly nervous but manages to hide it for the benefit of the men. Blanco's offer to carry him show the witchhorse in him again and fits his personality well. It's amazing how much you manage to give the animals. Sai was entertaining as ever.

Maybe it’s because he adores Blanco.

Indeed I think he does.

This post has been edited by Olen: May 30 2012, 07:26 PM

[SubRosa]

The shadows of the Bruma city walls lay draped over the land nearly to the Plain of Caribou.
This was a very elegant and vivid way to show us that it is near dusk.

Legio VI has horse archers? Well hot damn! My estimation of them keeps increasing. I looked up Mo gu, but all I found was a boneless Chinese art style, and some uber-orcs from WoW.

Blanco is really something here. Not only does he show his nerve in the presence of the Oblivion Gates, but the way in which he steps up to Martin shows his intelligence, and perhaps that Witchiness that his blood is so known for? He seems to smell the dragonblood in Martin's veins.

“Do you trust me with him?” A memory of Prior Maborel’s kindness struck me like a hammer, raising a walnut in my throat.
This was a wonderful memory of Prior Maborel, and our old friend Paint.

Julian's pre-battle butterflies were a good touch. They help remind us that in spite of everything she has been through, she is still mortal, still puts her boots on one foot at a time. I am thinking this would be a good time to pass around a bottle of flin. It was also good to get a little review of the city guard contingents, and the acknowledgment that even the battlemages are facing the same jitters as everyone else.

[Acadian]

“You behave yourself, horse,” I admonished him. “That’s the Emperor of Cyrodiil you’re carrying.”


A beautifully painted opening with some fine stage-setting. The time of day, nerves, cold and massive scale were all well-captured. Then, some wonderfully appropriate memories, ranging from the heroes of Kvatch to old Paint and more.

And a rousing battle speech, fitting of an Emperor. Always better when given from the back of a prancing stallion!

It seems like Julian is well-focused and prepared for her sprint to grab the sigil stone.